


How To Play The Game

by J_D_McCormick



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, bot au, the dynamic duo of space pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_D_McCormick/pseuds/J_D_McCormick
Summary: Babet eyes the boy and the robotic arm. “Five thousand.”Montparnasse scoffs. “Nice try, but I know you’ll do cheaper. The arm isn’t even worth that much.” He says.“Got anywhere else to go?” Babet tries, hoping the unspoken threat will unnerve himw.“Maybe I could try the mechanics at the maintenance company you stole your ship from?” Montparnasse snarks right back, letting a sharp grin cross his face. Babet huffs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms as he thinks.





	How To Play The Game

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to blow the dust off this old AU and start writing! I of course had to start with my favourite boy, Montparnasse.
> 
> For some basic introduction to this universe: AI and robotics are extremely advanced, with some bots now being so capable of emotion, thinking, and personality that they are near human. Space flight is also a reality, with humans roaming the universe regularly. And of course, we have bionics. Think in the realm of Star Trek Next Generation, with Data and space exploration and travel!
> 
> A little thanks to B, who was my partner in the RP I based this on, and who built this AU up in the first place!

Babet is working quietly in his ship when he first meets Montparnasse.

The scrap of a teenager steals onto the ship, casting furtive glances around himself as he comes aboard. He’s keeping a satchel held close to his chest with one arm – his only arm, Babet realises, seeing the way one sleeve is folded up and pinned – and shielding it with the rest of his body.

“Can I help you?” He asks, regarding the boy with interest.

Montparnasse looks at him sharply, but nods as he ventures closer. “Are you Babet? I’ve come for an arm installation, I heard you do them cheaper than most.”

“That’s me.” Babet sets aside the motherboard he’s tinkering with to turn to Montparnasse more fully. “What did you bring?”

He watches as Montparnasse awkwardly digs out the tech from his bag, struggling a little with only one arm. When he gets it out, he shows it to Babet without giving it over. Babet can read the wariness in him – the kid is smart, and doesn’t seem afraid of him, which could be annoying. When his customers are nervous they are much more agreeable to his terms.

“It’s in good condition, all the wiring and casing is intact. It’s pretty high-end, good tech.” The boy tells him.

“Top of the range robotics, but not designed to be human compatible.” Babet nods. “Shouldn’t be a problem though. Where did you get it?”

“Happened upon it.” Montparnasse says nonchalantly, shrugging. “Can you do it? How much?”

 _Stolen, then._ Babet eyes the boy and the robotic arm. “Five thousand.”

Montparnasse scoffs. “Nice try, but I know you’ll do cheaper. The arm isn’t even worth that much.” He says.

“Got anywhere else to go?” Babet tries, hoping the unspoken threat will unnerve him.

“Maybe I could try the mechanics at the maintenance company you stole your ship from?” Montparnasse snarks right back, letting a sharp grin cross his face.

Babet huffs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms as he thinks. Most people don’t actually know much about the worth of the tech they bring in. Sometimes he can trick them into trading for a lower grade equivalent, then selling on the more expensive pieces he gets. Usually their nerves will make them agree to almost any price he sets. If there’s hesitation, he can just remind them that he’s their only option without greater expense or potential repercussions, and then they’ll cough up whatever he asks. With this boy though, that’s not going to be an option. The kid has done his research, and knows how to play the game.

Babet isn’t sure if he’s annoyed, or almost impressed by that.

“One thousand, no lower.” He offers.

Montparnasse grins. “Sounds good to me.” He says, digging out the money and handing it over. Little shit really did know what he was doing. Babet starts gathering up his tools.

“Alright kid. Sit down.” He says.

“My name is Montparnasse.” The boy in question huffs, before dragging over a crate to sit on. “I’m not a kid.”

“Sure, _kid_.” Babet says, just to irritate him. “Take your shirt off. You’re gonna bleed, and it’s gonna hurt a lot.”

Montparnasse scowls, spitting a vague, angry sound, but complying all the same, tugging his shirt and jacket over his head. The remains of his left arm are ugly, a rough stump covered in nasty scarring that ends just a little below his shoulder joint. The wound is old by now, but obviously didn’t get a lot of medical attention when it happened. Babet examines it roughly, using the vague medical knowledge he’s acquired to assess it – although the tissue is obviously damaged, he can see Montparnasse reacting to the touch, so the nerves are still mostly intact.

“Alright, good, at least I don’t have to build into your shoulder and chest, that always takes for fucking ever.” Babet mutters, rearranging how he’s sitting and the way Montparnasse holds his arm. He takes the bionic and sets it in his own lap, starting to open up the casing and work on the wires, stripping down the plastic coverings and making sure they’re properly intact.

“So, where did you really get it?” He asks, picking out the wires that will act as nerves and doing a little extra cross-wiring to make the whole arm human-compatible. “I know you didn’t just find it lying around.”

“Some guy left a display bot unattended.” Montparnasse smirks, looking very pleased with himself. “I detached the arm when he wasn’t around and legged it.”

Babet chuckles a little. “Smart.” He nods. He doesn’t warn before he cuts into Montparnasse’s arm to start seeking out the nerves. The teen yelps.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Yeah this part is a bitch.” Babet nods. He carefully dissects away skin and muscle, exposing the main nerves, cauterising blood vessels as he goes. “Gimme an extra five hundred, and I can fit you with a plate so you don’t need to do this every time you install a new arm.”

“Two-fifty.” Montparnasse bargains, even as he grits his teeth hard against the pain, looking a little pale. Babet laughs.

“No. I’d get more from you if I left it like this and you needed it redone. Five hundred, or you’ll be further out of pocket next time.”

“Fine.” Montparnasse lets out a little huff of breath, and another, shaking his head as if to shake off the pain. Babet nods, grabbing the extra pieces, and sets to the careful task of properly wiring Montparnasse’s nerves into the plate before embedding it into his arm. Montparnasse bears the procedure in near silence, breaking it only to breathe out strained curses or yelp when something particularly hurts. The hand of his other arm alternately clenches tight into fists or taps restlessly against his knee.

“Alright, imagine you’re moving your hand on this side.” Babet says once the plate is hooked up. Montparnasse swears softly and closes his eyes as he does as Babet says. Babet watches for the sparks in the false synapses on the plate and, satisfied that the plate is properly installed, finishes embedding it into Montparnasse’s arm.

“God, this hurts like a sonofabitch.” Montparnasse mutters.

“It will do. That just means I did it right.” Babet tells him.

“Can you not give me anaesthetic?” Montparnasse asks, scowling a little.

“No, I need the nerves to be live so I can tell if I’ve wired you properly.” Babet says, starting to hook up the arm to the plate.

“Could you at least be a little more careful?”

“You’re paying cheap for a backalley procedure. You shouldn’t be expecting nice soft treatment.” Babet tells him, poking Montparnasse with a pair of tweezers. The teen hisses and mutters something. “What was that?” He pokes again.

“That you should learn to do your job better! Fucking hell.” Montparnasse yelps. Babet growls and leans close.

“Listen kid. I'm the best there is when it comes to robotics, I even ever so kindly sell my work pretty damn cheap. You think you deserve my best? Give me more money. You want to cry and get treated like a baby and given a lollipop when you're done? Pay for a doctor. You won't get as good work, but it'll hurt less." He tells him lowly.

“I told you, I’m not a fucking kid. I’m almost sixteen.” Montparnasse hisses, baring his teeth right back.

“Then act it.” Babet replies, not at all intimidated, unaware that Montparnasse is already far more than a petty thief.

“Just get on with it.” Montparnasse huffs and looks away from Babet. The mechanic hums. He admires the kid’s guts, even if he’s got a bit of an attitude – he’d make a good scrapper.

“Don’t sulk. Here, you should be able to move it.”

Montparnasse still looks rather sour but starts to test out the arm, flexing the fingers and elbow a little stiffly. His expression lightens as he starts figuring out the finer points, twisting his wrist, moving each finger one at a time. Satisfied that everything is wired properly, Babet replaces all the casing and plates, including those that fasten the arm onto what’s left of Montparnasse’s flesh one. Montparnasse winces a little at the weight of it, but seems pleased enough, grinning at the smoothness of the joints once he gets used to moving them.

“Knew I made a good choice with this model.” He crows, pulling out his knife and carefully testing his ability to grip onto it and flip it open and closed. It’s a little slow and fumbling, but he manages it.

“Good model, better installation.” Babet chuckles. “When you get used to it, it’s be more agile than your human arm. Stronger, too.”

“Good. No-one’s gonna be messing with me with this.” Montparnasse says, and when he grins it’s dangerous. “Bet I could make some cool customizations too…”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Babet tuts, shaking his head and starting to clean off his tools. “You’ll break it and that’ll just mean more money in my pocket and less in yours.”

“Yeah yeah. I’m good with tech, I know what I’m doing.” Montparnasse dismisses, throwing his knife back into his right hand and flipping it around a moment before flicking it closed.

“Well, don’t blame me when you end up back here.” Babet shrugs. Montparnasse only huffs and waves his hand as if to bat away the thought. He digs up the extra five hundred and chucks it Babet’s way.

“Thanks for the installation, Babet.” He calls as he makes his way off the ship.

“Reckon that’s Monsieur Babet to you, kid.”

“Not a kid!”

“Sure.”

-

Within a week, Montparnasse is back, having pulled out a wire in the process of trying to make a storage compartment in his forearm for his knife. Babet makes a deal with him; more parts for the repair. Montparnasse grins and agrees.

Days later, when Babet leaves port with a cargo full of high end tech, Montparnasse comes along with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is as always appreciated, and is likely to inspire further works in this universe :p


End file.
